All Work and No Play
by ICanStopAnytime
Summary: Coach Eric Taylor takes the plunge to move for Tami, but what if her new job doesn't work out according to plan? A post-season 5 Friday Night Light fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

**All Work and No Play**

**Author's Note: **Yep, more novel cutting room floor pieces + new material = newish story.

**Chapter 1 (of 6)**

The sky in Philadelphia wasn't like the small town Texas sky; it was never so open, so expansive, but tonight was somehow different. A symphony of light punctuated the black canopy above, and from this distance the sounds of the city were a fairly steady murmur, with the occasional high-pitch of a horn breaking out, a pattern not terribly unlike the chirping of the crickets back home. Eric, who stood behind Tami on the back porch with his arms wrapped around her from behind, kissed her hair and drew in a relaxed breath. She crossed her arms over his. "I love you, babe," she said. "I'm so glad your mine." He was basking in the glow of her words when her cell phone rang.

"Ignore it," he said.

"Sugar, you know I can't."

She took the call and disappeared inside. He resented the interruption. Moments like these, moments of real connection with his wife, seemed few and far between these days. Tami had been busy all summer reviewing the final transcripts of applicants that had been accepted in the spring, juggling financial aid issues, and revising the rolling admissions policies, and she was often on the computer late into the evenings. It had felt good to be holding her out here on the porch, to be sharing in the beauty of the instant. It had felt peaceful.

[***]

Later that night, after Tami had made a "quick run to the office" which had ended up taking longer than anticipated, she returned to a quiet, darkened house. Eric was still awake when she crawled into bed. She kissed his forehead.

"I love you," he said, turning on his side to face her and dig a hand in her hair. He toyed absently with the strands. "Can we talk about something?" he asked.

"What?"

"You've been working a lot lately. This job…it's become a lot of work. A lot more than either of us thought it would be. From dinner until bedtime you're on that damn computer."

Her eyes flickered with a hint of irritation, and she turned them downward.

"And this is summer," he continued. "This is the _light_ season for you. Last winter and spring, you missed dinner three nights a week. You were at some meeting almost every Saturday."

She looked him in the eye. "I'm the Dean of Admissions, babe. It's a big position."

"I know."

"And you've pulled plenty of late nights as a coach over the years, running around trying to line up boosters, calling special practices, dealing with the problems of your players…Really late nights. And you've got the away games, and - "

" - I know. But it's just during the season. It's rare I've worked _as much_ as you've been working this past year. I feel…" He sighed. "Never mind."

If he dropped it right now, she wouldn't have to feel guilty about working so much this past year, and, frankly, Tami did think her husband had a sort of double standard when it came to time spent on their respective careers. On the other hand, she recalled how difficult it had been for her when he was in Austin. She was working far more than he was accustomed to having her work, and he had moved to a new place for her. The first year after the move had actually gone pretty well. Eric liked his assistant coaches, had settled comfortably into his job, and enjoyed training up his team from scratch. He had even made a good friend outside the world of football. The past several months, however, had admittedly been rough for Eric and Tami as a couple, and she knew he was still far from in love with Philadelphia.

"Don't just stop like that," she said, shaking her head. "You know this thing," she pointed a finger back in forth between him and herself, "works better when you talk to me."

He sighed. "I don't know. I've been feeling a little disconnected from you lately. Standing out there on the porch with you reminded me what it feels like to be really close to you..." He bit his lip. "I know you love your job. And I'm proud of you, I am. It's just…" He sighed and rolled away from her, onto his back. "Forget it. I know you've gotta do what you've gotta do. You can't do this job half assed."

She rose up over him and looked down at him. "No, I can't," she said. "But you've quit a job for me before, Eric. You quit TMU. If it comes to that…if it comes to a choice between our marriage and my job, you know what I'm going to choose."

"I'm not asking you to make that choice. Our marriage isn't going anywhere. It's stayin' put."

She stroked his cheek. "I know you're not asking. Just like I didn't ask you to quit that Austin job. And I never would have asked you, probably. I was too proud. But you quit anyway, thank God, because I don't know what would have happened to our family if you hadn't." She kissed him. "I'll tell you what," she said when she lifted her head back up. "Part of the problem is I'm doing almost all of the work because my current Assistant Dean has gotten lazy. Just plain lazy. I think his time is going to some book he's been working on. You've heard me complaining about him."

Eric nodded.

"I'm pushing for a replacement. I expect to have one by mid to late fall. Three to four more months of crazy hours tops. If things don't improve after I get a new assistant, we'll talk about a change. Okay? I can always look for a high school counseling position if I have to. I'd rather try to make this job work for us, but if it doesn't, there are other options."

She could see the relief in his eyes. He barely nodded. She kissed him again and then lay her head down on his shoulder and draped her left leg over both of his. He rubbed her back for awhile and then whispered, "Thank you, Tami."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 (of 6)**

Tami eased open the door to her husband's home office. The desk lamp cast a bright light on his open playbook, and the white board on the wall above him was coated with new play diagrams. His cap was hung on the back of the chair, and his hair had fallen victim to his nervous habit of gripping the strands when he was flailing about for an idea. He was tapping his pencil on his book and watching game film on the small television/DVD combo that rested on the corner of his desk when she settled her hands on his shoulders. He jumped a little at her touch, but then leaned back instinctively. He felt tense, so she slid her arms down the front of his chest and touched her lips down on the top of his head. "Hey, babe," she murmured. "Sorry I missed dinner."

He slid his pencil behind his left ear and extended his hand to pause the film. "Gracie asked for a hug and a kiss when you got home," he said.

"I went in to give her one, but she was already out like a light." Tami's arms slid off of his chest and her hands fell back on his shoulders. She began to rub.

He closed his eyes. "That's nice, babe," he said, "but I really need to concentrate on these plays right now." He opened his eyes again and removed the pencil from behind his ear.

"Okay." Tami let go of his shoulders and stepped to the side. She sat on the edge of his desk next to the playbook. "But don't work too long. We promised each other some alone time this week. Promise you'll come out by 9:30?"

"I _finally_ got Gracie to sleep fifteen minutes ago. I've got my first game tomorrow," he said between clenched teeth. "You know that."

"I know, hon, but surely you don't have to work on this all night long."

"Well, babe, maybe I wouldn't if I had been able to work on it earlier this week." He dropped his pencil roughly on top of the playbook. It made a light snapping sound as it hit the page. "Instead I was doing _all_ of the cooking and cleaning and Gracie ranglin' myself."

She'd expected him to be annoyed that she was home late again, which was why she had greeted him so pleasantly, and she was a little miffed that her preemptive affection hadn't seemed to soothe his irritation.

"Maybe if you'd of been home Monday or Tuesday evening," he continued, "or hell, even Wednesday – maybe if you'd of made it home in time for dinner even _once_ this week to help with some of that, I could have gotten more of this work done sooner. But you weren't home. So I didn't. And now I have to do it, however long it takes me. And I certainly can't promise you I'll be out of this office anytime soon."

Tami slid off his desk and rose slowly. Her husband picked up his pencil and put the tip against the playbook. "You know I'm working on it, Eric," she said. She forced her voice into calm. She knew it wavered slightly with irritation. "We're accepting resumes now for the new assistant dean. The process is going to take a while, but things will improve. You – we – just have to hang in there. You know I've been in your position before. You realize that, don't you? "

"Yeah." He'd been pressing the pencil so hard against the paper that the tip snapped. "I know."

"And I handled it just fine. I hung in there as long as I needed to."

Coach Taylor slammed his playbook shut and shoved it across the desk. Startled, Tami took a step back. "No, Tami, you didn't! The house was a mess when I'd come home from Austin, and you slapped our daughter across the face."

When she'd made that confession, about slapping Julie, years ago, he'd simply held her while she cried. He'd never mentioned it again. To dredge it up now…and fling it in her face like that…and…yes, she'd had trouble keeping up with the mess back then, but criticizing her _housekeeping_ after she'd just had a baby? Seriously? "How dare you!"

Her angry words didn't make him flinch or even avert his gaze. "How dare I what?" he asked deliberately. "How dare I point out that your little dismissive _hang in there_ isn't a big enough band aid? How dare I point out that you expect more of me than you were able to do yourself? How dare I?"

Tami was accustomed to her husband's irritability, to his being disgruntled or taking minor offense at various things she said or did, but his anger was a much rarer thing. It disturbed her that her authoritative "how dare you" had not elicited, at best, an apology, or at the least, a quiet, surly retreat. She studied the anger in his eyes and the hurt that lay behind it. Her legs felt uncharacteristically weak beneath her, and she needed to sit down, but there was nowhere to sit but the desk, and she wasn't going to put herself in front of him like that again. She put a hand on the back of his chair to steady herself. He looked down at her fingers. "Eric," she said softly. She drew her eyes hesitantly to his. "I _am_ trying," she said. "Things are going to change. I promised I'd work toward that and I am. You believe me, don't you?"

"I have to work, Tami," he said. The angry edge was gone from his voice. He just sounded weary now. "I have a game tomorrow."

She let go of the back of his chair. She walked out of the office and slammed the door with one hand before leaning back against it and closing her eyes. They were expecting too much of her at work, and that had been stress enough, but now it was putting stress on her marriage. She'd persuaded Eric to diminish his reputation and step outside of his cultural comfort zone to move for her ambition, and now that ambition was crumbling like an ill-planned castle of sand.


	3. Chapter 3

"Coach Taylor is off his game today," came the commentator's amplified assessment.

"He just didn't seem to have his head in this one at all," agreed his compatriot. "This should have been an easy victory for the Pioneers, and now they've kicked off their season with a loss. That last call was an unnecessary risk. I don't know what Coach Taylor was thinking."

At the end of the game, Tami ran to the sidelines to offer her husband a conciliatory hug, but he felt stiff against her embrace. He pulled away, mumbled he'd see her back home, and followed his team to the locker room.

Tami was sitting in the living room in the dim glow of a single floor lamp when he got in. She had a wine bottle opened and two glasses on the coffee table. Hers was half full. She poured his while he sat down on the couch next to her. "Here," she said, handing him the glass. A peace offering. They couldn't go on like this.

But he refused her outstretched hand. He shook his head. "No thanks. Not now."

Tami put the glass down on the table. She felt a heaviness in her heart she hadn't felt since she'd first gotten the Braemore offer and Eric had reacted with defensive, inner retreat.

She had to find a better assistant dean, someone who wouldn't leave her with so much of the work, someone who could help her to swim so she didn't have to keep treading water, but the process was going to take time. If she was honest with herself, as much as she loved the intellectual environment of Braemore and seeking out and finding kids who deserved a chance to attend but who might have been overlooked if not for her, she wasn't sure she was having the impact she'd once had as a counselor or a principal. She didn't get much one-on-one time with students. Maybe it was because Julie was grown and gone and settled in Chicago with her new husband, but part of her missed that aspect of her old jobs terribly.

Tami had been thinking about rising in a career she'd put on hold for too long, about earning respect for her innovations in the admissions world, about the grand compliment they had paid her by choosing her at all. Maybe she hadn't spent enough time thinking about what she was really called to do, who she was really meant to affect. Yet she couldn't admit that now; she couldn't fully admit it to herself, and she certainly couldn't admit it to Eric, not after she'd turned their lives upside down with the move. Not after she'd insisted it was her turn.

Her turn for what? To pursue her dream, yes, but her motives hadn't all been as noble as that, had they? She'd also felt it was her turn to receive the attention and importance that had long fallen on Eric. Her turn to be top dog in the relationship. Her turn to have _her_ career put first, to have _him_ conform his schedule to it, rather than vice versa. What she hadn't realized was that it would also be her turn to experience the stress and guilt that often accompanied that position, or that her dream, even when clasped, might not be as fulfilling as she had imagined. Yet still she clasped that dream. If she could just get a good assistant…if she could just scale back her hours…if Eric could just hang in there a little longer….

But could he? The way he'd just turned down her peace offering of wine...She sighed and slid away to the other end of the couch.

"Hey," he pleaded, when her back hit the opposite arm, "C'mere. Come back here." It was rare that she misinterpreted his moods, but she must have mistook his pensiveness for irritation. "Please?" he asked, and she saw the tenderness mingled with fear and longing in his eyes. Relieved, she slid close again and he put an arm around her. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm sorry I brought that stuff up about the past yesterday. That wasn't fair. It wasn't right. I wouldn't like it if you did that. There's plenty of ways I've messed up over the years you could drag out. I'd hate that. I'm sorry. And you've spent a lot of nights holding down the fort when I had to work late, and you've done a good job of it."

She pulled away to look at him. "I'm sorry I was so dismissive," she said. "I wouldn't like that either. I know it's been tough for you. For us."

He kissed her tenderly. She stood up and tugged on his hand. She led him to the bedroom where they undressed and came together under the covers. They made love slowly. He murmured her name, whispered how much he loved her, asked her what she wanted, what she liked. The sex was a kind of patch, and they both knew it, but they needed a temporary fix while they labored to mend the space that had been worn open between them.

/***/

Eric and Tami were entangled beneath the sheets, limbs damp, drifting off to sleep when Gracie arrived at the edge of the bed and said she'd had a bad dream. They looked at one another and said, simultaneously, "Your turn."

Eric turned from Tami and glanced down to the foot of the bed at his daughter. "Go on back to your room, Gracie, sweetie," he said. "I'll be in there in a couple of minutes."

She disappeared through the doorway. Eric threw off the sheets and pulled on some clothes. He went to his little girl's room, prayed over her, kissed her forehead, and tucked her back in tightly. When he got back into bed, Tami was asleep. He crawled in next to her and put a hand lightly around her waist and quickly drifted off to sleep himself, though an hour later, he was wide awake. He eased out from underneath the covers and found himself in his recliner before the soft glow of the television, not even sure what he was watching.

He was anxious about having lost the game tonight, but not for the same reason he would have been in Dillon. He had no fear for his job. Unless he proved a continual failure, he knew he would maintain his position. He had the kind of job security here he had forever lacked in Texas. Nevertheless, every time he came home after a loss, he still habitually surveyed the front yard in search of "for sale" signs. They were never stabbed in his lawn. There was never any egg dripping from his windows. Football just wasn't _that big_ a deal in Philadelphia. This was a fact that inspired him with a simultaneous sense of relief and regret.

In Dillon, he never would have suspected he might one day miss the toilet paper in his trees. Yet some small part of him did. It was a sign that he mattered: that his losses and his wins made a real difference to the community at large. The greater part of him, however, was glad football was now mainly about the game itself and no longer about the rise and fall of an entire town, no longer about the vicarious hopes and dreams keeping alive middle-aged adults, no longer about the politics that weaved its tentacles into every aspect of small town life. With the move, his ego had taken a beating, perhaps, but his gut was taking less of one.

So he wasn't anxious about his job; it was secure. He was upset with himself for letting his personal troubles affect his coaching tonight. He was disappointed in himself for letting down his team. It wouldn't happen again, he assured himself, but he hated that it had happened at all. He worried about what the months ahead held for him and Tami. They had made up tonight, but he well knew it would not be their last fight, not as long as she did the work of two people, not as long the new assistant dean remained a sort of myth on the horizon.

"Can't sleep?" He welcomed the sound of her soft, feminine voice. "What are you watching?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he said as she crawled into his lap and settled her head against his shoulder.

"Can you turn it off?"

He did and tossed the remote on the couch. He encompassed her with his arms and closed his eyes, savoring the warmth and weight of her body, the simple closeness.

"We're going to get through this," she assured him. "We've always gotten through every challenge together."

"I know."

"So we're done fighting?" she asked.

"For now," he admitted.

She snorted slightly. "Well I'd rather we fight and make up a million times than keep it all inside. Things can grow in the dark."

He squeezed her. "Me too." Eric reached down for the handle that would recline his chair, giving them more space to cuddle. He held her quietly until she began to jerk lightly against him, sleep spasms. He yawned and thought about lifting his now slumbering wife and carrying her back to bed. He thought about the logistics of doing it without waking her. And then he was asleep himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 (of 6)**

Coach Taylor emerged from the locker room at the start of the second half, put a hand on the shoulder of his quarterback, and drew him away from the rest of the team. "Coach," Robbie Johnson protested, "I have to get on the - "

"I need a private word with you."

His quarterback followed him to the side and raised his face to his coach's but didn't quite look him in the eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to focus, son." After that first loss of the season, they'd won their next three games. Tonight, Coach Taylor wanted to bring their total to four wins out of five. "Somehow we tied this up," he told Johnson, "despite the fact that you've had your head up your ass. Now we can win this one. We almost beat them last year, and we can do it this year, but I just need you to focus. You've got to stop looking at that cheerleader and start looking at the ball."

Anderson looked down at the ground. "Sorry," he muttered. "It's just...she just broke up with me this morning and - "

"You can't take your personal life onto this field, son," he said. "Trust me. That's a recipe for disaster. If you really can't get it out of your head, then let it fuel you somehow. Let it be your motivation. But either way, get your head out your ass."

"Yes, sir."

Coach Taylor patted him on the shoulder and the boy ran after his team. Eric buttoned the top button of his jacket against the October chill, crossed his arms over his chest, and joined his assistant coach on the sidelines. The players were lining up, and Coach Taylor tried to resist the urge to look behind his shoulder and search the stands for Tami. She had said she might be "just a little late" for his game, but she hadn't been there the entire first half. After the lecture he'd just given Robbie, it seemed rather hypocritical for him to take his attention off the field for even a second, but he couldn't help himself. He turned. There she was, finally, waving in his direction and blowing him a kiss. He nodded and turned back to the game.

/***/

Tami darted around the crowd to greet her husband on the sidelines. When she threw her arms around him, he was blinking and dazed the way he so often was in the first minutes after a game. She could feel the shifting tension in his body as she hugged him, the adrenaline just beginning to ease its insane flow and his muscles just barely starting to unwind. She put a hand on each of his cheeks and kissed him. "That was close," she said.

"Yeah." He let out a long breath. Players were slapping his back joyfully as they passed him. "We were losing badly the first two quarters. But you didn't see that."

"Sorry, that meeting went a lot later than I expected it to."

"Yeah. I gotta go. Meet you back home." He turned and followed his team to the locker room. She watched him as he walked, his gate confident but not cocky, talking to his assistant coach, nodding but not smiling. She didn't know if his brusqueness was merely a part of his general stunned state (they had won only in the last ten seconds of the game) or if he was angry with her for being late. Sighing, she headed home to relieve the babysitter.

[***]

Tami sat down on the couch next to Eric, who was drinking a shot of scotch and staring drowsily into space, a not uncommon, post-game ritual for him.

"Good game, hon," she said.

"What you saw of it?" he asked, not looking at her.

"Sorry I was late."

"Yeah," he said and sipped his scotch.

"Listen, it's going to get better very soon," she reassured him. "We have three panel interviews tomorrow for the new assistant dean, and these are the _last_ of the interviews."

He turned his neck to look at her and said, with a hint of irritation, "On Saturday?"

"It's the only time they could come in. They have jobs."

He leaned back against the cushions of the couch and closed his eyes. She put a hand on his knee and squeezed. "How tired are you?" she asked.

"Tired."

"Too tired?"

"For what?" He brought the glass to his lips and swallowed the last sip of scotch without opening his eyes.

"You know how turned on I get watching you coach." She had said it in a somewhat sultry tone, but without her usual absolute confidence. She wasn't accustomed to dealing with sexual rejection. Tonight, though, she wasn't sure how frustrated he was with her continued long hours and whether or not he really believed she was making an earnest effort to change that. It was a bit of a gamble, throwing the suggestion of sex out there at this moment. She didn't like the feeling, the uneasy sense of not knowing if he was going to say yes. This must be how he felt half the time he propositioned her. Maybe, she thought, she should be more sensitive to that fact in the future.

"It's nice to know I can still excite you, babe. But I'm really, really tired. I think I'm just gonna turn in."

"Okay," she said, her voice so soft she hardly recognized it as her own. "Goodnight, hon." He gave her a perfunctory peck on the lips.

She looked down at the carpet as he rose from the couch. There were not tears forming in her eyes. There were _not_. After all, she probably told him she was too tired twice a month. It was no big deal. Sometimes you really were just too tired.

[***]

Tami crawled into bed next to Eric. He was on his back and snoring softly. Usually when he did that, she poked him with a finger to wake him up and told him to turn on his side. He never snored on his side; only on his back.

Tonight, however, she didn't intentionally rouse him. Instead she eased down next to him and lay her head on his chest. Her hand touched his arm gently. He stirred. "Whatz that for?" he murmured. "No, not the nickel defense." He kicked his leg slightly and then fell still again. She snuggled in closer. His right arm found its way up from the bed and around her back. She knew he had done it instinctively. He wasn't awake. It was nothing but a reflex born of years of sharing the same bed, but the weight of his arm was comforting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **I realize I'm usually a daily updater, so to make sure no one gets alarmed, I'm going on vacation for a while. I'll post the final chapter of this story when I return, but I thought I had better not leave it on a note of angst, so I made sure to get this one up before I left. Comments very welcome!

**Chapter 5 (of 6)**

Saturday passed with little conversation. Eric was up before Tami, unusual for a Saturday, and he had breakfast ready when she came fresh from the shower into the kitchen. She had to wolf it down and head out for the panel interviews. She apologized once again for missing half of his game, and he only nodded silently.

The interviews lasted an hour longer than she expected, and then the President wanted to meet on the spot to discuss the candidates. She didn't get home until six, to find a note from Eric that he had taken Gracie out for pizza. When they got home, he claimed to have forgotten to bring home the leftovers. Classic passive-aggressive Eric. She made herself a sandwich.

Tami didn't suggest sex that night, though she suggested turning in around ten. "We should get some sleep so we can go to the early service tomorrow. Then we'll have all day together, you know." He said he wanted to stay up to watch a little more game film, so she turned in, but she lay awake until she felt the bed shift. "Good night," she whispered.

"Nite," he said back, but he didn't kiss her, not even perfunctorily.

The last time she checked the clock, it was 1:25 AM. Sleep finally overtook her.

/^^^^/

The next morning, Eric sat stiffly beside her in the pew. He was semi-formal about church ritual, but he was never this stiff. This morning, he still hadn't even stretched his arm out across the pew and let his hand come to rest on her shoulder, which he usually did.

They'd already reached the sermon, Gracie had already wandered down to the fellowship hall for children's church, and the pastor now began preaching. Eric usually assumed his "posture of prayer" at this particular point in the service. That is, he would lean forward, eyes closed, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together , hands against his face, so that he could, unobserved, doze off briefly. This morning, however, he appeared to be listening surprisingly attentively.

"Listen again to what Paul says in Ephesians," the pastor repeated. "_Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her_. Pretty tall order, huh? How many of us husbands do that? How many of us even try? We read from the Song of Solomon earlier in the service. Think about the language used there. Gentlemen, listen up."

Tami saw Eric raise an eyebrow, perhaps because _Listen up_ was _his_ phrase.

"The husband is the _lover_," the pastor continued. "The wife is the _beloved_. It's the husband's job to love the wife. Not vice versa. I'm not saying your wife shouldn't love you. I'm just saying, from the Christian perspective, it's not your job to worry about whether or not you're getting your due. It's just your job to _actively_ _love_ your wife. Listen to what the epistle writer says here - _In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself._"

Eric seemed to lose interest in the sermon, because he reached for one of those little white notepads in the pew. Tami knew why he was reaching for it, and it sure as hell wasn't to take notes on the sermon. He never took notes on the sermon. He was going to sketch play diagrams.

He fumbled for the mini pencil and then made a few quick strokes on the little white page. He poked Tami's shoulder and then turned the pad in her direction. On it, he had drawn a lopsided heart with an arrow through the center, and above and below the arrow he had written, "Eric + Tami."

It was the first sign of genuine affection he had shown her in over a day. It was fond and random and adorably childish, and she burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the sanctuary.

/^^^/

"I couldn't believe you in church today!" Tami said as she slapped her husband lightly on the shoulder. She loved this part of Sunday best, when they'd put on a movie for Gracie in the living room, retreat to their bedroom to lie on top of the covers in their sweats, and just cuddle. _This_ was their Sabbath, their time of rest.

He nuzzled her neck and whispered, "You're the one who laughed out loud and made everyone turn and look at us."

"Because of you! You were the one being naughty."

"Well, I _can_ be naughty," he said and kissed her, as much as he could manage to kiss her while she was still laughing.

Their playful kisses eventually deepened and grew more serious; their teasing petting turned to intimate caresses as hands slipped underneath clothing. Tami's soft moans were broken by her gasp. She pulled away. "Go lock the door," she ordered. "Hurry."

He leapt from bed, stumbled a little, caught himself, and soon made it to the door. She laughed at his eagerness. While he fumbled with the lock, she said. "We have to hurry. Gracie's going to come looking for us soon." They'd been cuddling and talking for nearly an hour already.

When he got back beside the bed, his eyes raked over her. She loved the way he looked at her as though she were wearing a sexy piece of lingerie and not just her sweats and a Pioneers T-shirt. She reached up and grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down on the bed. His lips crushed hers as he yanked at her sweatpants. It was quick and impatient and a bit disorderly, but it was perfectly satisfying, and afterwards they pulled their sweats back up and laughed and kissed and laughed some more.

When they were settled again into a comfortable cuddle position, with Eric on his back, he murmured, "Thank you. Damn how I needed that." She kissed his chest through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. "And I don't just mean the sex, Tami. I mean all of it…the whole day."

She smiled and snuggled closer against him. "I needed it too." The connection. The chance to spend an entire day together. Worshipping together (and there had been at least some measure of worship going on), laughing together, enjoying lunch together as a small, nuclear family, watching Sunday afternoon football together, playing with Gracie together, cuddling and whispering together, and then…the cherry on top.

"I love you." He turned his head and murmured it into her ear this time, "I love you, my wife, my bride." She smiled. He turned his face back to the ceiling and, hastily, said, "And I'm sorry if I've been a bit grumpy lately."

_IF? IF you've been a bit grumpy?_ She thought it, but she was judicious enough not to say it. Instead, she said, "I'm sorry we've had too little time lately. I love you so much, hon. I'm so sorry I missed most of your game Friday. I know that upset you."

"It's okay. I und - "

"- It's not okay. I should have insisted they reschedule the meeting."

"I realize you can't just - "

There came a rattling of the door knob, and then a loud knock. "Why is this locked?" Gracie shouted.

Eric sighed and rolled out of bed. He opened the door and looked down at his daughter. "We must have accidentally locked it," he said innocently. "Is your movie over already?"

"Yeah. Can we go out to dinner?"

"That sounds great," Tami said from where she lay in bed. "I haven't taken anything out to thaw."

"But I want to see the next game," Eric said, glancing at the clock. "It's started already. Let's order pizza." He bent down and whispered, "Back me up, Gracie." Despite his lowered voice, Tami heard and smiled.

"Pizza!" Gracie shouted, and he drew back from the deafening sound. "Pizza! Hooray for pizza!"

Eric turned to Tami and shrugged. "You can't say no to that."

Gracie beckoned him to bend down again by wiggling her finger. He did, and she put her lips to his ear, cupping her little hand around her mouth as she whispered. When Eric stood back up and turned to Tami, she raised an inquiring eyebrow. "And I think," he told her, "Gracie deserves some ice cream tonight too." He winked at his little girl as he followed her out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 (of 6)**

Coach Taylor sat with his feet up on his desk and his hands laced together behind his head. He watched the television screen as Coach Wayans pointed with his pencil. "See how he runs that?" Wayans asked.

There was a knock on the office door and before either could say come in, it swung open. Coach Taylor immediately slid his feet off the desk and sat up. "Tami, hon, hey. What are you doin' here?"

Tami walked in a few steps and Coach Wayans stood up. "Coach," Eric said, "you remember my wife Tami, right?'

"Hard to forget," Coach Wayans said with a smile and extended his hand to her. When he'd let go he looked at Coach Taylor and pointed to the door. "Should I…?" Coach Taylor nodded. Wayans shut the door behind himself.

"Hey, this is a nice surprise," Eric said, standing and giving Tami a quick kiss. "What brings you to this side of town? You have time to grab lunch?"

"No, I need to head back soon." She sat in Coach Wayan's vacated chair, "But since I was here I thought I'd stop by and say hello."

Coach Taylor sat back down at his desk. "Here? For what?"

"An interview."

Eric opened his mouth slightly and then closed it. "Say what?"

"You're going to lose your high school counselor at the end of the month."

He plucked off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. Tami watched him and smiled. "You look cute," she said.

He put his cap down on the desk and shook his head. "I don't understand. You interviewed for the counselor position?"

"I'd be taking a forty percent pay cut, but we can afford it. We've been saving a good chunk of my salary anyway. Gracie will just have to take out loans for that last year or two of college."

"I…why…what made you decide this?"

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. She crossed her slender legs and started making annoyed circles with her ankle. "They aren't going to hire a new assistant."

"After collecting all those resumes? After holding all those interviews?"

"The current assistant dean has threatened to sue under the American Disabilities Act."

"What?" Coach Taylor grabbed his cap and leaned back in his chair. He stretched his legs out under the desk. He waved his cap in the air. "What the hell is his disability?"

Tami shook her head. "I think his disability is he's lazy. But he's claiming some…chronic something that you can't see but…I don't know. It's a bunch of crap but they don't want to spend the money to fight it and don't want to risk any damage to their reputation, and they figure since I've been doing all the work anyway, I'll just keep doing it. But I won't."

"And you're sure you'll be happy with this? Just being a counselor again?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Just?"

"I don't mean…Tami…you did a lot of good in Dillon. You could do a lot of good here. God knows these kids could use the help. But I know this dean thing meant a lot to you, and I know what it's like to go from the center of attention to…" He looked around his office, half the size of the one he'd had when he coached the Panthers, no more run down than when he coached the Lions, but still without nearly as many framed newspaper clippings. "…not so much. You deserve that respect."

"Honestly, I love the respect I get as Assistant Dean. I love the college environment. And the salary is very nice. But I'm not accomplishing the kind of good I feel like I could accomplish by talking to kids who _really_ need someone to talk to. I shouldn't be in my career for _my_ reputation. That's not why you're in yours, is it?"

He smiled lightly. "Well I don't enjoy losing games. And I sure don't mind winning state rings."

"But it's not about _you_. It's about the game, and it's about those kids. That's what it's really about for you."

"Yeah. I guess so."

"I know so," she said with an affectionate smile. "That's why I love you, hon. Well, one of the reasons. And if I can get this job…My career will be about more than me again. It'll be about these kids, and… it'll be better for _us_." She studied his eyes. "I'm sorry I asked you to move all the way to Philadelphia so we could end up doing exactly what we were doing in Texas."

"It's okay," he reassured her. "You like the cultural opportunities here. And I love bringing up this team from below. I couldn't have done that with the Panthers. The super team would have had nowhere to go but down. We have a decent church. A few friends. Gracie likes her school…" He fell silent, as if he were looking for more virtues to list about a place that still wasn't quite home to him. He looked her directly in the eyes. "And this move…it gave you the chance to figure out that you love doing what you were doing before. Maybe you had to go through this to appreciate that. And me…" His eyes softened as he spoke. "I just want to see my wife."

Tami's lips trembled for a moment, in that half smile, half pout she formed when she was particularly touched by something Eric said. She regained her poise and cautioned, "Now, I don't actually have the counselor job _yet_."

"You'll get it. You always do get the jobs you want. I don't know what you do in those interviews…" He laughed. "You make an impression I mean."

"Hmmm…" She stood and came over to his side of the desk. He rose to meet her and they kissed. He rested his forehead against hers when their lips parted. "Are you worried about me getting in your business if I get the job?" she asked.

He sighed. "You're a reasonable woman, right?" She chuckled and drew her head away from his, but she let her hands linger on his shoulders. He looked into her eyes. "I know you're thinkin' of us. You can get in my business all you want, as long as you're home at night. I've missed you this past year. Thank you for...putting us first. I'm a lucky man."

Her fingers stole upwards and she caressed the back of his head beneath his thick, dark hair. "I like being married to you, believe it or not," she said. "I even like getting to see you from time to time."

He smiled down at her with his eyes. He drew her to his chest and rested his chin on her head. "Do you know how much I love you?" he murmured. "Do you have any idea how much?"

"I have an inkling," she said with a smile. His arms tightened around her.

**THE END**


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